


It Can't Be That Difficult ... Right?

by astridthecrafty



Category: Thunderbirds, thunderbirds are go
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5435390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridthecrafty/pseuds/astridthecrafty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Famous last words ... of course it can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Can't Be That Difficult ... Right?

Dual wielding a machete and a nail-spiked baseball bat, Alan Tracy the Zombie Smasher stood in the center of the putrid pile of steaming zombie guts and decomposing body parts. The _REALLY GORGEOUS_ young woman in distress he'd just saved flung her arms around his neck in thanks. As she muttered her extreme gratitude her hands moved down his chest and .... the world started fading away into darkness as awful acrid stench assaulted his nose and woke him up from his dreamworld.

He groaned in annoyance. _Just_ as it was getting to the really good part.

Grandma was off on a mainland supply run with Kayo so it wasn't another cookie attempt, but whatever it was, it was really, _REALLY_ bad. Weird...the smoke alarms hadn't gone off. He shoved the empty blue plastic cup from his line of sight to look at the clock... 4.18 am.

Still half asleep Alan peeled his body off the floor and went to investigate. The closer he got to the kitchen the more intense the smell. A variety of expletives started to waft along with it.

He announced his arrival with a cough, and Scott, Virgil and Gordon spun round looking rather sheepish. They hadn't even changed yet, the evidence of a flood relief rescue stuck in hair and smeared over blue uniforms.

"Midnight munchies without me ... normally I would complain, but what have you killed?" Alan wrinkled his nose as he stretched the final kinks out. He REALLY needed to stop falling asleep on the floor, but that boss level of Zombie Apocalypse had been hard.

"Long story short ... we all had a craving for those chocolate crisped riced cakes that you get at kids parties... but not having luck with chocolate." Virgil winced as he prodded the charred remains in a bowl with a spoon.

"We tried it in a pan, but it burned before it melted." sighed Scott.

Gordon pointed to the bowl, "Then tried the microwave, but it burned even worse. It looks like the spawn of Satan was trying to escape from hell!"

"You really should melt in a bowl over pot of water, but you can microwave if you're careful. About a five minute job all in," Alan stated, matter of fact.

Virgil, poked Scott on the shoulder, "See ! I _TOLD_ you I remembered something about water."

Rubbing the offending prod mark Scott looked puzzled. "How do you know how to do it? You would have been too young to remember making them with Mum?"

Alan shrugged. "Well while you lot go off rescuing people I'm stuck here doing homework stuff. This was in the very basic domestic science module." Shooing them all from the workspace the youngest took charge. "Sit. Leave this to the masterchef, and tell me what brought this on."

While Alan gathered the small amount of things he needed, he heard the sound behind him of three being chairs pulled up and sat at the breakfast bar, and ignoring the questioning looks between his brothers commenced breaking up the chocolate cubes.

The 3 older boys regaled the afternoons events while Alan firstly reduced the power output to 700 watt (2000! No wonder it had carbonised!) for 1 minute, before setting the fresh batch to melt and popping paper cases into cupcake tray.

"I didn't even know we had one of those," Gordon interrupted an animated retelling of Virgil saving a terrified kitten that had clung so tight it's pin-like claws had spiked thru his glove to motion to the tray.

As the rescue story continued the 60 second timer beeped. Alan opened the door and stirred. Halfway there, back in for another minute. The people being rescued had been moved to the local church hall where a 5 year old's birthday party had been in swing.

'BING!" Looked melted enough now, the final small lumps disappeared as Alan stirred, then tipped in the crispies.

Gordon and Virgil could hardly breathe for laughing as they told how they'd ended up having to rescue Scott from a rather amorous octogenarian.

"I don't think I have EVER seen you as terrified as when she grabbed a handful of your butt." teased Virgil.

Horror flitted over Scott face as the memory resurfaced. He was REALLY glad his other brothers hadn't heard what she had been whispering in his ear at that exact moment.

While Alan continued by filling the cases the story turned to the kids party food which has consisted of - among the rest of the highly sugared selection - chocolate crispie cakes.

They had been the topic of conversation on the way home, remembered making them with Mum and they got nostalgic so decided to make some as they SHOULD be simple and quick, but it hadn't quite worked out that way.

"YEEOWCH" yelped Gordon as Alan whacked the fingers that had been sneaking at the edge of the bowl with the spoon, then gestured towards his siblings.

"The bowl is makers privilege. Go and get changed, and they'll be set once your done."

About 15 minutes later four boys sat around the table, each lost in their own memory of simpler days past, the sound of teeth crunching through chocolate and puffed rice with the odd appreciative "Mmmmm"

"Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island ... we have a situation!"

Licking smears of chocolate off fingers, 8 legs scuttled up to the higher level of the house, the chocolate bombsite forgotten.


End file.
